A horrible shiver crawled down my spine and I squeezed my knees together. The hand that had beeninside mehad ended countless lives.
My throat trembled as I finally gave the General his answer. “No. He was fifteen feet tall and we could not…”
He scowled and hissed out a tense breath. “I have until the full moon, then.” His eyes focused again. “Many do not understand the magic of Nordingaard. Depending on what he felt for you, he may have invoked something more powerful than even he is.”
My brows knitted. He knew the rules of magic? The power of the bargain of a life made in love?
Maybe his admission was a clue. Ilsa might not have been a sorceress, but she was from the North. She knew the old lore, and she must have passed it down to at least one son.
I wanted to press for more information, but I could not trust the General just yet. He might have been Riyan’s father, but he was still a Hyton—wielder of Traitor’s Bane and loyal to his House. A few morsels of honesty between us was not enough for me to let my guard down.
General Hyton gestured to the tea in front of me. “Drink it before it gets cold—it’s motherwort.”
Motherwort? My fingertips shook as I placed them around the cup. He drank from the same kettle so I was certain the tea was not poisoned, but…
“You knew I was—?”
“I know everything that goes on within those palace walls.”
Shit. I wasted a question and owed him an answer, but at least I knewjusthow closely he was watching me.
The General leaned on his forearms again, looking me directly in the eyes. “I need you well for when I finally bring Riyan back. Your marriagecannotannul.”
I placed my lips on the edge of the teacup with painted larkspur. The bitter sting of the motherwort coated my tongue, but it was perfectly brewed.
Nothing the General just said was a direct question, so I was safe in letting him assume that I was still married.
“Just stay out of trouble and let me take care of finding him,” he ordered.
The last thing I planned to do was stay out of trouble, but if all my scheming led to the safe return of his son, the General might just forgive me for upturning the House of Hyton.
I just had to stay on his good side.
My stomach was still in knots as I took another drink. It might have been foolish to ask another question and owe the Generaltwoanswers…but I had to know.
Before I left the privacy of the General’s quarters, I needed something of Riyan that was…good. Untainted by magic or death.
“General…” I instantly hated how vulnerable my voice sounded. “I know this sounds absurd, but…was he ever gentle?”
General Hyton was silent for longer than I wanted, but then his eyes found mine and he smiled softly. “He sang at night, like the lone wolf howls at the moon. Low and soft, just to fill the silence.”
My mouthful of tea felt warmer as I remembered Riyan’s voice. He had hummed into my hair as he stroked my back. He came up with silly songs out of nowhere. He sang to me while I slept for two days, calling out to me as the Man of the Mountain held me in the place West of the Moon and East of the Sun.
Riyan was a murderer. He had killed more men than the General of the Lycaster army could even count. He was…gruesome.
Gruesome. Barbaric. Merciless.
And though all that was true, no sound in the world was warmer than his voice.
I stared into my empty teacup as I swallowed. My heart sank and my Nordingaard crystal cooled against my skin.
Even a voice as warm as his was still not enough to make me love him.
As soon as the palace guard opened the wall into the Hyton family quarters, Brietta passed in front of us.
She wore puffed sleeves and skirts that flowed like seawater—dressed too splendidly to be pacing in the hallway alone.
Her brown eyes went wide and she unclasped her hands. “Ah, Serafina! I have been looking everywhere for you. We are late for tea with Her Excellency!”
